


Oodles of Noodles

by LadyJane_BBJFE



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:50:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJane_BBJFE/pseuds/LadyJane_BBJFE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't a week following Justin's departure for New York that Brian wakes up, convinced he's dead, because an angel is sitting next to him in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oodles of Noodles

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the "fix the ending" fics.

Brian squinted upward. “What the fuck?” He had woken up only a moment before, with the sun brightly illuminating… blond. And bright white. That was it, he had finally done it, he was dead. 

Thank god. 

As the angel spoke, the white turned out to be a t-shirt, and jeans materialized around legs folded up underneath a very real body perched on the side of Brian’s bed, just to the left of his hip. 

“Oodles of Noodles, Brian. Do you know I’ve been eating Oodles of Noodles for a week?” Justin cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. 

“Um. No.” Brian stared. Okay. So maybe he wasn’t dead. What kind of fucked up dream was this?

“You can’t live on that shit. My butt’s going to shrink.” 

“Can’t have that,” Brian replied. He took his hand from beneath his pillow, and poked maybe-Justin with his index finger. 

“Ow! What the fuck, Brian?”

Brian sat up, his hand coming to rest on Justin’s arm. He squeezed. Huh, felt real. “You’re not a dream.”

“Gee, honey, you’re so romantic,” Justin smirked, and gained a scowl in return. He lightly smacked Brian’s exposed belly, and then left his hand there, feeling Brian’s warm skin. “Are you listening? New York’s insanely expensive. The rent is insane. And you know how many guys like me there are crammed into every corner?”

“So?” 

“So? I’d have to get a job that pays bills. That means anything art-related is out, ’cause it’s all internships for kids with trust funds or rich parents. And there’s no way I’d get a good paying art job, ’cause I don’t have a degree. They won’t even talk to me without a diploma. The friend Daphne hooked me up with says he’s an actor, but he’s really a waiter. I’d have to work, like in a diner. I was doing that here! And I was sleeping on a couch with people walking in and out all night. I can’t live like that.” 

“And?”

“And? I repeat. New York’s too expensive.”

“You said that. And as I recall, we’ve had this discussion already, four years ago when I wanted to move there. I think we’re becoming redundant.” Brian leaned over and grabbed a pack of cigarettes off of the side table.

“Yeah, and your ass stayed in Pittsburgh.”

“Yeah, and you took your ass to New York. Where it belongs.”

Justin leaned back, his weight on his arms, and watched Brian’s eyes skitter across the far walls as he lighted a cigarette. “Brian.”

Brian’s determinedly wandering gaze snapped back to attention. 

“Seriously. Can you see me living on Oodles of Noodles? I’m not kidding. I went to the grocery store, and realized it was the only thing I could afford. Those things are twenty cents each.”

“I’ll send you money.”

“You won’t have to. You can hand it to me over the breakfast table. Did you sell Brighton?”

“Brighton? Oh. My. God. We are NOT calling it that! Anyway, Mel and Linds are currently in residence.”

“Yeah, I heard they found out the hard way you can’t just up and move to Canada. So. Can I stay with you then? Here? At the loft? 

Brian leaned back against the pillows, and closed his eyes. He felt Justin crawl up against his chest, and then a pair of soft lips touched his neck, and a tip of hot tongue traced the sensitive skin at the pulse point up under his ear. A small nip teased his ear lobe. The gentle promise of lips pressed at the side of his mouth. Brian turned into it, and kissed Justin lingeringly. He pulled back, then stared at Justin’s gaze, so absolutely certain. Brian thought, I am so fucking doomed. He took another drag from the cigarette, and exhaled over Justin's head. Oh, well. What the fuck. 

“Maybe, someday, we can bag Brighton, and get a loft. In, say, Soho.”

“Again. Not Brighton.” He could tell Justin later that the thing was a monster and he already had it on the market. “All self-respecting gay men are buying in the meat packing district, anyway.” Maybe in a couple years. Sock away the profits and wait for the real estate bubble to burst. 

Justin continued, “I can put a portfolio together, here, and work on a solid body of shows and sales from Pittsburgh. And you can open a branch of Kinnetik there.”

“That may take some time, Sunshine.” Might as well just give up and give in and get it over with.

“That’s okay. After all, it’s only time.”

Brian choked on the smoke sucked in with the sudden spate of laughter. “Oh, well, fuck, I’d hoped it would take you longer to use that against me.”

Justin smirked, and plucked the cigarette out of Brian's fingers. He took a drag before grinding the butt out. He turned back to Brian, and dragged the sheet off Brian's thighs, preparing his attack on the beautiful body revealed before him.“Less talking, more fucking.” 

“That, I can do today.” Brian reached for him. Doomed. Might as well accept it gracefully.


End file.
